Contrary to what some people think, I actually found the enchanted gloves to be a lovely gesture. If we recall the beginning of ACOWAR, one of the first things Lucien learns about Elain is her love for gardening.
"Tell me about her--about Elain," Lucien said quietly. As if the death that squatted in the dark beside us had drawn his thoughts to his own mate as well.
I debated not saying anything, shaking too hard to dredge up speech, but... "She loves her garden. Always loved growing things. Even when we were destitute, she managed to tend a little garden in the warmer months. And when--when our fortune returned, she took to tending and planting the most beautiful gardens you've ever seen. Even in Prythian. It drove the servants mad, because they were supposed to do the work and ladies were only meant to clip a rose here and there, but Elain would put on a hat and gloves and kneel in the dirt, weeding. She acted like a purebred lady in every regard but that."
Considering what little information Lucien was able to gather about Elain from the moment they were revealed as mates to their first Solstice together (keep in mind Lucien seldom had time alone with her), I would say the gloves were a sensible and thoughtful gift.
As Feyre previously stated, ladies were only meant to do the bare minimum when it came to gardening. It was seen unladylike to slave away in the garden, ergo the servants frustration with Elain's little deviant behavior. I imagine the Faes adopted a similar mindset, therefore it's quite endearing that Lucien, son of a High Lord, gifted Elain with something she could use in order to continue doing what she loves doing regardless of status. The subtle encouragement is beautiful. 🧡
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A short Solstice drabble for @flamekeeperbellroc - It’s that mistletoe scene we talked about. We could make it part of our AU or it could be seen as a standalone Skraelroc drabble - either way I hope you like! ♡
The mistletoe was not a new tradition, Skrael reflected as he twirled the mistletoe sprig between his fingers. It was one of the few traditions around that he could still recognize. Even if the purpose had been slightly warped, the kissing part seemed to be fairly consistent. But would Bellroc agree? Or… would they recoil?
Skrael was not nervous, not at all – but he might be moved to admit to a certain sting of trepidation.
There!
It was up. No turning back now. When Bellroc spotted it, they would wonder regardless if he acted upon it or not. Feeling like he had set a trap of some kind, he returned to the book he was carefully putting together, binding the separate pages with thin strips of leather.
He didn’t have to wait long.
Minutes later Bellroc marched inside, so decisive that Skrael could already tell they had news.
”I have found them.” Their staff connected to the rough stone with a sharp crack. Nari and her wizard friend had managed to evade them for too long – and perhaps if he was forced to complete honesty, they had not searched as thoroughly as they could have. Neither of them had given voice to the concern, but it was clear to Skrael that both of them at least partly regretted how far things had gone with Nari. Would they be able to bridge that rift somehow? Time would tell.
”Excellent.” Skrael rose in the air, moving closer. The pleased look on Bellroc’s face almost made him forget about the mistletoe, and in the last moment he spotted it and stopped short in the doorway. ”Ah, a moment-”
The sudden stop made his companion halt and he could hear the subtle wooden clacks of their eyes darting – the only sign of their bewilderment.
He leaned in close, given them ample time to retreat if they wanted to. When they didn’t, he boldly reached up to trace their jawline with his fingertips – hastily adjusting his body heat to just below room temperature which was bordering on unpleasant for him but bearable.
Closer still and then, just the softest touch as he gently brushed their lips together. The sensation was at the same time intense and unnoticeable, the unseen tension of their powers readying to meet their opposites, like the pull of a magnet.
He wanted to do it again, but – had they liked it? Their face was expressionless. Shocked? He couldn’t tell.
One heartbeat passed, two- then he reached up and plucked the mistletoe from above their head, pressing it into their hand until he could feel their fingers curling around it, sluggishly, delayed.
”It would be unlucky not to”, he said by way of explanation, given them a way out should they prefer to ignore it. And if they preferred not to… well, there was no such thing as an accidental mistletoe, was there?
He moved away to give them some space, to not crowd them or push them – you corner Bellroc at your own peril - and yet he had the sudden instinct to stay close, to wait for their reaction. Ignoring the impulse, he moved further away, forcing his mind back on the hunt.
In doing so, he missed the way the wooden eyes were locked on the mistletoe still clutched between their ashen fingers, and the free hand that came up to touch their lips…
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